Betrayal. [TomTord]

Syringe

.・゜゜・ chapter 8 ・゜゜・．

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As Edd and Matt bustled about the kitchen, their cheerful banter filling the air with a sense of warmth, Tom's attention remained fixed on Tord, his eyes narrowing as he watched his roommate's every move. Despite the jovial atmosphere that permeated the room, the Brit paid no heed to the preparations for dinner, his gaze locked in a silent battle of wills with Tord across the room. The air crackled with tension, thick and suffocating as the unspoken animosity that simmered between them.

As dinner progressed, the tension only seemed to mount. Edd and Matt exchanged concerned glances, sensing the palpable undercurrent of hostility that hung in the air, but they said nothing, probably assuming that it was another silly fight between the two.

When dinner finally drew to a close and Tord and Tom retreated to their shared rooms, the tension between them reached a boiling point. Without warning, the commie seized Tom by the collar, pinning him against the wall with a ferocity that took the black eyed man by surprise, a loud gasp escaping his lips. His face contorted with rage, Tord's grip was like a vice, crushing the air from Tom's lungs as he struggled to break free.

-- "It's dangerous to snoop around my stuff, Jehova," His enemy hissed, his accent heavy as he stared Tom down with icy intensity. "I warned you once before, but it seems you didn't learn your lesson. I'm not giving you a second chance."

Tom fought against Tord's grip, his muscles straining against the iron hold that imprisoned him, but it was futile. Through gritted teeth, Tom managed to choke out a response, his words strained and ragged with effort. "Whatever you plan to do to me, Edd and Matt would become suspicious, bastard!" he spat, his voice tinged with defiance despite the fear that gnawed at his insides.

A wicked grin twisted Tord's lips, his eyes gleaming with malice as he leaned in close, his breath hot against Tom's ear. "Oh, don't worry about that," he whispered, his voice dripping with menace. "We'll take care of them."

And with those chilling words, Tord released his grip on Tom, leaving him slumped against the wall, breathless and shaken. A sudden sharp pain pierced the base of his neck, injecting its contents with a quick, brutal motion. Startled, he jerked upright, only to find Tord looming over him again with a syringe in hand, a twisted smirk playing upon his lips. 

The world spun and blurred as darkness threatened to swallow him whole, leaving Tom disoriented and helpless. His limbs felt heavy and sluggish, his mind clouded with a fog of confusion as sleep overtook him like a merciless tide. And as consciousness slipped away, the last thing he saw was Tord's mocking gaze, filled with a cruel satisfaction that sent a shiver down his spine.

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Ugh...

He sluggishly blinks his eyes. When he finally regained consciousness, Tom found himself bound and helpless, his hands and legs securely tied to a pole that rendered him immobile. Panic surged through him as he struggled against his restraints, but to no avail.
His mind raced with a thousand questions, but the first thought that sprang to his mind was of Edd and Matt. Are they okay?  With a sense of desperation, Tom called out into the darkness, his voice echoing off the cold, unforgiving walls.

"Commie!" he yelled, his voice laced with fury and fear. "Hey, asshole! What have you done with them?"

To his surprise, the two mysterious men from before appeared before him, their arms crossed in a stance of silent defiance. The long-haired man turned to his companion with a questioning glance. -- "What should we do with him, Paul?" he asked, his voice low and curious.

Before Paul could respond, a familiar figure stepped into the room, his iconic red hoodie casting a crimson glow in the dim light. Tord. His face was unreadable as he surveyed the tied down man with a mixture of amusement and disdain. -- "I will take care of him, Patryk," Tord declared, his voice cold and authoritative as he crouched down in front of Tom. Despite his bound limbs, Tom made a feeble attempt to escape, his struggles only serving to amuse Tord further.

"No use, buddy," Tord taunted, his voice dripping with condescension. But Tom refused to back down, his defiance unyielding as he spat in Tord's face.

For a moment, Tord's expression remained stoic and unyielding, but then a flicker of anger passed across his features, his eyes narrowing into slits as he slowly rose to his feet. Without warning, he delivered a brutal kick to Tom's gut, the force of the blow knocking the wind from his lungs and leaving him gasping for breath.